


Tezuka's Notebook

by aiwritingfic



Category: Death Note, Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-29
Updated: 2007-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiwritingfic/pseuds/aiwritingfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Oct 11, 2014: This story is officially dropped.  I'm very sorry if you were looking forward to more, and I do apologize, but I'm not feeling it and don't have the ability to write it any more.  If anyone wants to take this idea and run with it, please be my guest!]</p><p>What if Tezuka Kunimitsu found the Death Note?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tezuka's Notebook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [achariya](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=achariya).



> In this alternate universe, instead of Yagami Light, Tezuka Kunimitsu finds the notebook dropped by the shinigami Ryuk.

He glared at the sign. It hung just above and before him, swaying as the train bumped along. "How to be a Legendary Office Worker," the sign proclaimed. "Best-seller on Amazon.co.jp for three weeks straight!"

There was something fundamentally wrong about a country where its people aspired to be legendary office workers, Tezuka thought, eyeing it with distaste. Aspirations were of the sort that included things like saving lives or discovering the secrets of the universe. Playing at Wimbledon counted. So did taking Fuji's data, perhaps.

Certainly not being the best paper-pusher.

When he brought up the subject at the library twenty minutes later, Oishi looked thoughtful. "Perhaps," Oishi said, "it's because everyone needs something within their abilties to aspire to. Not everyone is as talented as you are, Tezuka."

Tezuka merely made a noncommital sound. He didn't consider himself particularly talented. He'd worked hard to get to where he was. Thomas Edison had said it best, in his opinion. Success was indeed a miniscule amount of genius and many times the effort. Oishi seemed to sense Tezuka's feelings on the subject, perhaps, because he smiled kindly at Tezuka and resumed working on the math problem set. Tezuka bent to his own, and they didn't speak of it again that afternoon.

That didn't mean the thought had left Tezuka's mind. He didn't think the matter settled to his satisfaction in the slightest.

Later that day, back on the train, Tezuka stood by the train doors, for once facing inwards instead of watching the scenery outside. Salarymen in black suits with big black briefcases and identical iPods in their ears. Women, talking to each other quietly, smiling, eyeing the men around them. Students like himself, jackets and vests, checkered skirts, plain black pants, gathered in twos and threes, looking at each other's cellphones, laughing and joking with each other. Two men standing in different parts of the carriage with different magazines in their hands, both looking at pictures of young woman in poses Tezuka was sure would never occur in real life.

 _What did they aspire to?_ he wondered. A comfortable life? A house in the suburbs, with one child and two pets? A generous salary, prestigious employment, and a good pension upon retirement?

It was certainly what his father aspired to. It awaited Tezuka, too. After the glory of Wimbledon, if he wished. And he could--many had assured him of it. Recruiters, reporters, potential sponsors. Five years of professional tennis. Ten years, if he was that successful. Then coaching, or a quiet life as a salaryman and has-been. Perhaps one day he would marry, though the thought seemed jarring to Tezuka right now. A child, or children, and he would teach them to play tennis.

Wasn't that alright, then?

He couldn't be sure, and that was somewhat vexing.

It was too early for this sort of existential crisis, Tezuka thought, getting off the train at his stop. One step at a time. The entrance exams to Tokyo, Keio, and Waseda Universities loomed, and he had promised his parents and grandfather he would do his best in them. A promise was a promise. There would be time enough to ponder enrollment while waiting for the results.

Before him, something black fell to the ground, landing with a thwap on the street.

Tezuka's first thought was of the object itself. What was it? No one else was around. He strode towards it decisively. _Just a notebook_ , he thought, looking at the plain black rectangle on the ground. He bent to retrieve it, and as he stood, looked up into a clear blue sky.

No one waved from a window to claim it; the trajectory would have been all wrong anyway, since that had been a vertical drop. He wondered if Inui would have started calculating the point of origin and succeeded.

The notebook was dusty from the landing on the ground, and Tezuka brushed it off, turning it back around so that the front cover was facing him. Immediately he frowned.

'DEATH NOTE', said the cover in silver lettering that looked like it had been copied from a Gothic poster.

It didn't look particularly homemade, though there was no barcode to blemish either side of the otherwise unmarred matte black cover. The writing on the front inside cover continued on the back inside cover, proclaiming some rules of usage in English.

 _1\. The human whose name is written in this note shall die._ The rest of the rules went on to provide more detailed instructions.

Tezuka wasn't sure whether to feel disgust or pity. _Childish,_ he thought. Whoever had bought this notebook was merely feeding into some desperate designer's dream. What stationery store sold this sort of notebook anyway? Perhaps a gothic store. He'd seen people wearing costumes that this would accessorize perfectly. The book was otherwise blank, so it was likely someone had been using it for some sort of cosplay.

Childish or not, he couldn't leave it on the road. Littering his own neighbourhood was unthinkable. Tezuka opened his bag, placed the notebook inside, and then resumed his walk home.

***

"Yo," someone said as Tezuka was reading a paragraph on the Meiji era three days later.

Tezuka wasn't expecting anyone, and the gravelly voice was unfamiliar. Even though it came from behind him, he glanced up at the door, then at his window. No one. Who was behind him, then? His mother wouldn't have let anyone in without notifying him. He turned, and then paused as he tried to reconcile the creature before him with anything he'd ever seen before.

"You seem to have forgotten about the Death Note," the creature said, still sitting cross-legged on Tezuka's bed.

Tezuka looked at the creature again, wondering what it was doing with a notebook, but reached down, opening his bottom right drawer. He retrieved the black notebook, and extended it to the creature. "I presume this is yours," said Tezuka.

"Was," it said. "It's yours now." Its yellow eyes stared at Tezuka's face. Tezuka didn't like how they didn't seem to blink at all.

"That isn't necessary," Tezuka said. He still had spare notebooks sitting unused in the drawer with the black one.

The creature chuckled. "You haven't used it at all. Don't believe it? Not even going to test it?"

Tezuka's eyes narrowed. The creature knew it was called the Death Note, and so it was unlikely it didn't know what the purported use was. "No, thank you."

"Interesting," it said, leaning closer, peering at Tezuka. "Aren't you curious?"

"Not to the extent of murder," Tezuka said flatly. If writing a name did nothing, it wouldn't be anything Tezuka didn't already know. And if it did, it would kill another human being. Tezuka didn't need to test an absurd hypothesis like that.

The creature cackled. "You're very interesting, Tezuka Kunimitsu. Most people would have written at least one name."

Tezuka didn't doubt that. At the same time, he couldn't see any of his family or the tennis club regulars doing so. More importantly, though, he had a question for the creature. "You know my name."

"Heh," it said, "I know more than that, Tezuka Kunimitsu. I know when you're going to die. I can see it with these eyes," it said, pointing to its yellow eyes and grinning. "Of course, I'm not going to tell you when. I'll be the one to decide when you go, and I'll write your name on my book when the time comes," it continued.

It would not be polite to ignore the creature. Still, that was quite the speech, and Tezuka decided he'd humored it long enough. "I see," he said, returning his attention to his textbook.

"Oh? Still not interested?" the creature asked.

Tezuka was about to say something when there was a knock on his door. Tezuka Ayana opened it. "Kunimitsu," she said, smiling, standing there with a tea tray. "Don't study too hard. Take a rest and have some refreshments."

She seemed to be acting perfectly normally. Tezuka looked in surprise at his mother--he hadn't expected her to be absolutely calm in the face of such an apparition. "Thank you," he said after a brief pause and a sideways glance at Ryuk. He stood to accept the tray.

From his bed, the creature chuckled. "She can't see or hear me," it said. "No one besides you can, unless they touch the Death Note."

Tezuka eyed the notebook, which was on his table, thankfully in a face-down position. He placed the tray on top of it. His mother turned to go, and then paused. "Kunimitsu?"

"Yes, mother?" Tezuka asked, looking at her. She was looking at him, a worried expression on her face. He faltered for a moment. Did she sense something wrong? After a few moments of silence, he asked, "Do you want me to do something for you?"

Tezuka Ayana seemed about to say something, but then shook her head and smiled. "It's nothing. Don't push yourself unreasonably, Kunimitsu. You know we're proud of you, no matter what your results turn out to be."

Touched, Tezuka nodded, giving his mother a small smile. "I understand, mother."

His mother patted his head lightly, and Tezuka bore it without complaint. "Alright. I won't bother you any more," she said, smiling. Leaning down, she gently kissed the top of his head, and then left the room, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

"Your mother's such a lovely woman," the creature said.

Tezuka turned, giving it a withering glare that he hoped made clear just what would happen to the creature if it harmed any of his family members. It laughed.

"Heh, down, boy," it said, grinning and baring sharp yellow teeth at Tezuka. "Don't look at me like that! I'm not that sort of shinigami."

That sort of shinigami? Tezuka paused. "You're a death god," he said, not quite believing his ears.

"Right in one," it said. "You can call me Ryuk. Pleased ta meetcha."

"Tezuka Kunimitsu," Tezuka said. Even if it already knew his name, it was polite to introduce himself again.

"Kunimitsu, huh? Very ambitious name," Ryuk said.

He didn't wish to be on such familiar terms with a shinigami. "Tezuka, please."

Ryuk laughed again. By now, Tezuka was getting somewhat used to the grating wheezing sound it made when it did that. "Fine, fine, Tezuka it is," Ryuk said, nodding. "Anyway, aren't you going to try the notebook?"

Tezuka had already answered the question. "No."

"Why not?" asked Ryuk.

"I refuse to commit murder."

"Murder? That's harsh," Ryujk said, eyeing Tezuka closely. "Surely there are people the world would be better off without."

Tezuka looked at Ryuk flatly. "Your point?"

Ryuk smiled, a toothy yellow grin, his large beady eyes staring unblinkingly into Tezuka's own. "The Death Note allows you to do something about it," it said.

"Not interested."

"Heh." Ryuk said. "Well, that's alright. I have time. In the meantime, I'll just watch you. Don't mind me."

Tezuka did mind. He turned, giving Ryuk a pointed glare. "Do shinigamis not have other business to attend to?"

"Let's see." Ryuk looked thoughtful, and then shrugged and grinned. "Nope. Play skulls, write names. And you don't really have to spend a lot of time writing names if you don't feel like it. A bus-full will do for a few decades. Then it's more skulls."

A _bus-full_? Repulsed, Tezuka couldn't help but stare.

Ryuk smirked. "It's more fun down here. And hey, it will be interesting and fun getting a guy like you to use the notebook, won't it?" It laughed. "The uptight ones are the most selfish."

"You mistake me. I'm not interested," Tezuka repeated, opening a drawer to put the notebook in. He paused, remembering Ryuk's warning about other people touching the Death Note, and he stood, walking to the door. Retrieving his keyring, Tezuka unlocked the topleft drawer of his desk, placed the notebook inside, and then locked it again.

"That's not very secure," Ryuk said. "What if your lovely mother finds it?"

"My family members respect my privacy," Tezuka said flatly.

"That's what they all say," Ryuk said, chuckling.

Tezuka ignored Ryuk, and instead turned his attention to the contents of the tea tray. There was a plate of apple slices and a pot of green tea next to his favorite mug. His mother was always thoughtful.

"What're those?" Ryuk asked, beside him now, poking a claw-tipped finger at an apple.

Tezuka pondered the practicability of ignoring Ryuk, but decided it might eventually leave if he humored it. "Apples," he said.

"Do they taste good?" Ryuk asked.

Tezuka sighed, resigned. He gestured towards the plate. "Please."

"Don't mind if I do," Ryuk said, reaching out for one. He popped the entire slice into his mouth and chewed, and then froze.

Despite himself, Tezuka felt some concern. "Ryuk?" he asked, watching the shinigami closely. If it suddenly did anything, would he be prepared to defend himself and protect his mother? He eyed his tennis bag, which was on the other side of the room. Ryuk stirred, and Tezuka tensed. This was it. Perhaps if he distracted the shinigami, he would be able to reach the tennis bag in--

" _Delicious!_ " exclaimed Ryuk.

Tezuka couldn't help but stare, although it was only for a moment. He recovered quickly. "If you like it, have more," he said politely, though he was somewhat curious as to why a shinigami was so pleased by mere apples.

"How kind of you," Ryuk said. In a few quick motions, all the fruit was gone.

Tezuka found himself glad he'd at least managed to eat one slice, or his mother's efforts might have been in vain. "Have you never had an apple?" Tezuka asked.

"Not in the human world," Ryuk replied, licking its lips. "Apples in the Shinigami realm are dry, tasteless things that crumble to sand in your mouth."

If the description was true, it explained why Ryuk seemed to have enjoyed the apple slices so much. "I see," said Tezuka.

Ryuk smacked his lips. "Thanks for the apples," it said, visibly relaxing.

"Don't mention it," Tezuka said. Perhaps its departure was imminent. He poured himself some green tea, but as there was only one mug, did not offer Ryuk any.

"Anyway. As we were saying," Ryuk said, settling itself on Tezuka's bed. Tezuka wondered for a moment if he would have to launder his sheets, but the shinigami seemed clean enough.

"I'm not interested," he said.

Ryuk cocked his head to one side. "Really?" it asked. "Why not?"

"I've told you," Tezuka repeated patiently, wondering if this was the third or fourth time. "It's murder."

"They all say that in the beginning," Ryuk said, and it wheezed and guffawed, irritating Tezuka. He turned back to his book, and the creature calling itself a shinigami laughed. "Soon, Tezuka Kunimitsu," it said, nodding sagely. "You'll use the book soon."

Tezuka highly doubted that. He concentrated on his textbook, hoping it would eventually leave.


End file.
